Enough
by kazoo
Summary: Snippet. Clark goes to Lex after the events of "Ryan." Spoilers for that ep and the trailers for next week's ep. Warning: mild slash. Clex.


Spoilers for "Ryan," the 11/12/02 US episode and vague ones for the trailer for next week's ep.

Warning: Mild slash aka m/m interaction. Please skip if this is not to your liking.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, not precisely nothing but little of any value and certainly not the characters from Smallville or DC Comics. Drat it. 

****

Enough

by kazoo

It was late afternoon on a Monday, four weeks after Ryan's death, mere days after Chloe and Lana had both nearly been killed. Lex hadn't seen much of Clark in that time, except when he'd dropped off the comic books, and then at the funeral. They didn't really talk. Clark was somewhere far away in his head, and Lex didn't push. 

He was learning, a little, about dealing with Clark Kent. His father would be appalled at how often he'd made this particular mistake, but it wasn't easy to reign in his instincts, not when he wanted so much, both the boy and his secrets. But Lex was learning, using the need for one to help fight his need for the other. A strategy even Dad would approve of.

And today, he had his reward. Upon arriving home from a long day at the plant, he'd found Clark sitting on the floor in the billiard room, staring at the fire. 

There was no greeting, not even a flicker from his friend except, "You were right."

Not whispered, not soft. Very matter of fact. 

"About what?" He matched the tone, but kept his approach soft, quiet. Clark was folded in on himself, knees drawn up, arms locked tight, rocking ever so slightly. As he got closer he was shocked to see the signs of utter exhaustion on his friend. Clark had never looked tired, in all the time they had known each other, not once. 

"Ryan. Spending time with the people you love before it's too late." Clark looked down for a moment, "I'm sorry it took me so long to listen."

"You listened in time--you were with him, Clark. When he needed you, you were there."

"It wasn't enough."

Lex crouched down beside him. "To save his life, no. To make it better, yes."

"It's not enough."

"Sometimes it's not going to be."

"But why this time?"

"Would you rather it was another time? With Lana, maybe, or Chloe or your parents, or me--"

"No, God, no, NO!" Clark was shaking his head violently, tears in his eyes, and to Lex he had never looked younger. Or more fragile. "Don't ever--"

Lex took a chance, rested his hand on Clark's shoulder and breathed an inward sigh of relief when Clark didn't tense or pull away. "You don't get to pick, Clark. No one does. And it's better that way."

"He was just a kid." 

"I know." And it was easy to pull Clark close, to hold him tight and say nothing as the tears fell. Clark was quiet when he cried, no sobbing, no sniffs. Just tears.

It took a while for them to stop, and even longer for Clark to pull back. Lex surrendered him reluctantly, but with no more than a moment's delay. 

"Thank you," Clark said softly, once again looking at the flames. 

Lex smiled a little, "You're welcome."

Clark took another moment to try for some semblance of composure, and turned back to Lex. "I don't say that enough to you, do I? You do so much for me--betcha wish sometimes I would've just kept the stupid truck."

"No." He knew he should follow that up with a joke, about Clark, himself, or the damn truck but he just couldn't right now, not when the cracks were so evident, and Clark still looked like he was running on fumes.

"That's not why I come here, you know. You might not believe it, but it's not for the things you can do. I come here because I trust you."

Something must have shown on his face at that--evidently his own control was not up to par at the moment--because Clark closed his eyes for a moment, sadness fairly radiating from him. 

"Clark--"

"I don't blame you. I lie to you, to so many people--Lex--"

"No." The secrets were so close he could taste them. But not like this. "Not like this." Not with Clark.

There was both gratitude and disappointment in those eyes, green as spring at the moment. Quick duck of his head that was pure Clark Kent, then those eyes came back up, meeting his own dead on. Also pure Clark. "I promised Ryan…I promised him three things. That I would never give up. That I'd always be there for you," and Lex caught a ghost of a smile, no doubt in response to the shock on his face because that was the very last thing he would have expected from Ryan, "and that I wouldn't--wouldn't be afraid. Of living. Of who I am." Voice lower, shaky, though his gaze never wavered, "…what I feel." 

Lex blinked twice. _Good things come to those who wait._ That platitude floated in his head, echoing in a voice startlingly like Jonathan Kent's, which was in its own realm of weird and disturbing, but it was all he could think. He felt his heart pounding and his breath quickening because unless he was totally misreading the situation--possible, even likely on the planet he had been living on just 30 minutes ago--Clark Kent was about to tell him something he had been waiting to hear almost as long as he had been waiting for Clark's secrets. 

"Clark, you don't have to--" Who the hell was the idiot saying that? 

"This, I have to. Please, Lex. If I don't now I might never and…" his eyes widened in horror, "Oh God, you don't--"

"No!" Idiocy and panic in the same minute. Later, Lex would be very disgusted with himself, right now, however, he had to stop the recurrence of both. "I mean… I do… want to hear whatever you want to tell me." All he could say, cursing the Luthor in him that wouldn't let him say more, not yet, even now. Especially now.

Clark stared at him for a long time, or maybe seconds, Lex really couldn't swear to anything right at the moment. Finally he whispered, "I don't know how…" But apparently his body had some ideas because a trembling hand came up, long fingers outstretched, reaching for his face.

Lex felt himself freeze at the first touch of those fingers on his cheek, his lips, afraid to breathe and shatter this moment, drop them back to the world where beautiful, innocent, _noble_ Clark Kent would never, ever do this. Where he dreamed only of Lana Lang, or possibly Chloe Sullivan, and occasionally some biker chick named Jessie, anyone but him. But this brave new world continued, leaving the old one far behind and before he was aware of any movement, he felt that soft, soft mouth on his own and inhaled the light that was Clark for the first time.

And knew immediately that it would not be the last. That was simply unacceptable. He needed this like he needed air. Possibly more. And he would have. 

Would feel this silky perfection threading through his fingers, smell this sunshine, taste this…

"Pure… you taste so… God, pure. Like life, I-Lex--"

A grin he felt all the way to his soul, burbling through him, "Only you would think that, Clark." And leaned in for another taste. Hope. Clark tasted like hope.


End file.
